


Transtemporal

by thethirstorder (KaiserPhoenix)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Backstory, Blood, Coming Out, Corporal Punishment, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, First Time, Flashbacks, Gender Dysphoria, Hux-centric, M/M, Menstruation, Pre-Canon, Threats of Violence, Trans Character, Trans Hux, Transitioning, Transphobia, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:56:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5999848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserPhoenix/pseuds/thethirstorder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My parents — my father — always wanted a son, so they had one,” Hux said plainly. “To him, my body was inconsequential and he never treated me as anything other than his son.”</p><p>General Hux didn't hate his body before he went to train at the Academy. Kylo Ren wants to help. Together, they work through Hux's trauma and try to make sense of one-another. Pre-TFA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> According to the Visual Dictionary both men and women served as Stormtroopers in the Imperial army, and Captain Phasma is very aware of her gender but doesn't think that a high-ranking female Stormtrooper is anything new. 
> 
> Gender works in all sorts of weird and wonderful ways in this film and I wanted to write a trans narrative that centres the experience of transness with characters I love and in a universe where things that are not possible right now, are. Because there is no way I am going to believe that in a world with aliens, starships, and planets that destroy each other, that there are no trans characters.

“Wait — Kylo. Before we do this, I want to tell you something.”

They were both fully clothed, lying on Hux’s bed with his back pressed against Kylo Ren’s stomach.

Kylo pulled Hux closer, snaking his arm around the smaller man’s waist. Kylo slid his other hand onto Hux’s chest, stroking the pristine fabric of his uniform.

“Kylo, stop,” Hux ordered, pushing Kylo’s hands away and rolling over onto his other side.

Ren said nothing. He waited for Hux to continue.

“I’m… My body… It might not be — I don’t think you’re _expecting_ me,” Hux muttered, a pink flush spreading over his pale face.

“What do you mean?” Ren raised an eyebrow.

“My body is sometimes mistaken for that of a woman,” Hux said, having found the words to put it mechanically without being too graphic. “Well, for those who have been close enough to inspect it.” Hux blushed a darker shade of pink, lowered his eyes, and bit his lower lip.

Kylo frowned. “It’s not a woman's body if it’s yours and you’re a man,” Ren stated, matter-of-factly. Kylo had never particularly thought about his own gender, nor the gender of people around him. He had interacted with so many different people and different species, for that matter, that he had all but abandoned gender as a concept. He had found it to be unhelpful in determining whether a person was trustworthy, or a capable warrior, or courageous — those were the things Kylo Ren valued. None of them in his experience had been predicated on gender.

He sensed that now was not the time for a discussion on the utility of gender. The General was still blushing furiously and begun to wring his hands. Kylo took Hux’s hands in his own, and pulled him close once more. 

“It’s all right. Don’t be afraid. Why are you afraid?”

“I’m not afraid. I just, I just thought it right to tell you before we… did anything further.” Hux sighed, and leaned in to Ren’s touch. Ren skimmed the surface of Hux’s mind, detecting ripples of anxiety, embarrassment, and worst of all: shame. Ren lay back down.

“My parents — my father — always wanted a son, so they had one,” Hux said plainly. “To him, my body was inconsequential and he never treated me as anything other than his son.”

“When I went to the Academy, he knew that I’d have to work twice as hard as the others to attain half the physical strength they had. He never told me that. He never told me that I was… different.” Hux winced at the memories that he was about to relive. _Actually, I never hated my body until I went to the Academy_ , Hux mused to himself, but daren’t say it out loud.

Kylo listened intently, processing the new information. Hux tried to read his expression, looking for a reaction of any kind; but Ren, ever the ambivalent (unless he was throwing one of his infamous tantrums), gave no sign of any identifiable emotion.

“My training regime was as strict as it could possibly be. Day in, day out. Each morning I was the first to rise and the last to bed each night. I got top marks in everything. I had to. I had a name to live up to.” Ren recalled reading something along those lines in Hux’s data file, which through which he had scanned before boarding the _Finalizer_. By all accounts, Hux was a star pupil and a top-notch cadet. However, Hux’s file didn’t contain much detail about his time at the Academy, only the results of it.

Ren pulled himself out of his reverie and noticed that Hux had stopped talking. He turned over away from Ren and moved to the side of the bed, his eyes downcast and his frame trembling ever so slightly.

 _I don’t want to talk about it any more_ , Hux thought, knowing that Ren would hear it. _I’m not sure I can_ , he thought to himself.  
  
Kylo received both thoughts, but had enough tact to respond only to the former. “You don’t have to,” he said aloud.

  
_But I want you to know. I just don’t know how to explain it_.

“Could you show me instead?”

Hux was silent, but turned over onto his back, his hands knotted together, resting on his abdomen. He rested his head on the pillow. Kylo stayed on his side, facing Hux. He closed his eyes, preparing to delve deep into Hux’s mind.

Hux squeezed his own eyes shut, adjusting to the pressure of Ren inside his head. It was not uncomfortable, but it was palpable. They had done this before, but never with a memory as long or traumatic as this one.

Hux took a deep breath, and replayed the scene for Kylo.

Here was Hux at 7, a slightly built child with a shock of closely cropped red hair. His complexion was pale and flecked with freckles. His eyes, a blazing blue, cast delight in every glance as he strode through the doors of the Academy for the first time. He was going to be a commander, like his father before him.

He had heard about how the Empire brought stability and order to the Galaxy and how his own father played a role in it. The Empire had fallen to the disorder of the Rebellion. That was the world into which young Hux was born. He had come from chaos, but would rule the Galaxy someday and make everything right again.

And he was here, at the place where he would learn to do so.

“Don’t look so enthusiastic,” Brendol Hux hissed. “Your training will be rigorous and you must take it seriously.”

“Sorry, father.”

“No. Here, I am Commandant Hux and from this point forward, you will address me as such.”

“Sorry, C-Commandant… Hux,” young Hux stuttered.

Hux was shown to his sleeping quarters, a standard order bunk in a room shared with five other boys. Identical rooms flanked the long corridor, leading to the communal refreshers at either end. It was late in the evening and Hux prepared for bed immediately. He changed into his sleepwear, as did the other cadets-to-be.

As they changed, Hux tried not to look at the naked forms of the other boys; he knew it was rude to stare. They were different between their legs, he noted. He looked down at his own naked body. _Apart from that_ , he thought, _we’re the same_. _Well_ , he thought to himself, _surely some of the others look like me. I haven’t met them all yet_.

This was the first time Hux was conscious of his own body. He resolved not to dwell on it as he fell into a deep sleep.


	2. Hologram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We revisit Hux at age 12, as he readies himself for a day of training and instruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the Kudos and support so far! I'm ecstatic to see folks on board with my trans Hux <3  
> Everything is unbeta'd. If you'd be interested in reading over future chapters and giving feedback before publication, let me know.

Kylo Ren withdrew from Hux’s head, allowing the General a brief respite. _Interesting_ , Kylo noted. He couldn’t remember when he had first noticed his own body. He remembered looking in the mirror and pushing back his dark hair. It had always been the one part of his appearance that he had thought remotely attractive. Kylo reasoned with himself when he first came aboard the _Finalizer_ that the maintenance of his hair could be his one indulgence.

Ren’s conditioner drove Hux wild, both professionally and personally. At work, Hux cursed Ren for filing his expenses under “critical necessities,” for _conditioner_ of all things! Though he would never admit it, Ren knew that Hux adored it; when they were together, Hux would bury his hands in Ren’s hair and run his fingers through it endlessly, taking in as much of its texture and scent as his senses could tolerate. Sometimes, Hux would give it a playful tug, or braid it absent-mindedly.

He got his hair from his mother’s side of the family, Kylo thought. He remembered the scent of Han Solo’s shaving cream and the smell of the family refresher after the cleaning droids were done with it. When he went to train with Luke Skywalker, he cut his hair the Jedi way: short, with a single thin braid over his shoulder. He wore neutral colours, as did all padawan, but he always preferred black wherever possible. And then when he left the temple for the last time —

 _No, I can’t think about that_.

Kylo stopped himself. _None of that matters any more. They mean nothing to me. Back to Hux._

Kylo glanced at Hux, who had not moved. He was still lying on his back, his chest rising and falling at a steady pace as he recovered from dredging up his memories and Kylo’s intrusion. With his eyes still closed, Hux took another deep breath and murmured: “It’s downhill from here. Worse afterwards.”

“We can stop if it becomes too much,” said Kylo.

 _No_ , Hux thought. _I need to do this_. “I’ll be all right. I’ll tell you if I’m not.” Hux braced himself for Kylo Ren’s return to his mind. Kylo reached for Hux’s hand and squeezed it as he entered once more.

Hux at 12 years old: sleeping in the pale light of the morning. Even while lying down, one could see that his form was lithe and agile, the product of premature physical training. He had started the intense physical part of the program a year before the other cadets in his cohort and the outlines of his nascent muscles were visible under the regulation tank top he wore to bed. His father, Hux later learned, had insisted that his physical instruction be more advanced than was expected for a cadet of his age.

Young Hux shifted in bed, half asleep. He rolled over, lazily checking his chronometer. It read 05:43. _Kriff_. Hux cursed under his breath, setting his feet on the cold floor, the rest of his body reluctantly leaving the bed. He was expected on deck at 06:00 sharp and he hadn’t eaten breakfast or used the sonic or cleaned his teeth or packed his duffel or combed his hair or…

Deciding to skip breakfast and the sonic, Hux wasted no time pulling off his shirt to reveal his budding chest. He knew it was standard practice to change in the ’fresher, but his roommates were still asleep; they didn’t have to get up until 06:30. It was quicker for him to dress in his room — just this once wouldn’t hurt.

Standing at his full height and in junior parade dress, Hux was tall for his age, but still thinner than was ideal for a young cadet. Hux loved his uniform — it was one of his favourite parts of Academy business. His instructors would probably frown upon how pleased he was with his appearance, but they didn’t know how Hux wore his uniform outside of the required sessions and how he would amuse himself by putting it on and imagine decorating it with stripes of various ranks as he became more and more powerful.

Hux’s shared room was equipped with a small sink, should the boys require water during the night. With no time to brush it, Hux fingercombed his hair, smoothing it down with water in one hand, brushing his teeth with the other. He spat into the sink, rinsing his mouth with water. Dragging his sleeve across his lips to dry them, Hux glanced at his chrono again. 05:52, it read.

 _Poodoo_ , Hux cursed again. He had heard both expletives while in simulation combat; a fellow cadet, a year his senior, had shouted them as he went down hard. Hux wasn’t quite sure what either word meant, but he knew that they were to be used when something went awry. Besides, he thought it proper to copy the older cadets, whom he admired.

Throwing every necessity within his reach into his duffel, pulling on his boots and not bothering to buckle them properly — it would be better to arrive in less than top form than to be late — Hux sprinted out the door.

  
He arrived on deck, panting, at 05:59. Hastily doing up his boots, Hux was in order and at perfect attention by the time his division captain arrived to begin the day.

* * *

 

Brendol Hux, watching from the viewport above, scowled into his caf. Unbeknownst to the young Hux and his peers, their quarters as did they all, contained a hidden holocamera, both to monitor the boys’ off-duty activity and for their protection should the Academy ever come under threat. The refreshers did not possess such devices, which was one of the reasons the cadets were told to change there.

Brendol Hux took out his comlink and raised it to his ear.

“Sir?” said a voice.

“Review the hologram of unit AA-23, starting at 05:30 today. See to it that cadet HX-1138 is disciplined for his violations of Academy protocol. I leave it to you to determine the appropriate punishment.” Without waiting for a reply, Hux ended the transmission with a curt valediction. “Hux out.”

The elder Hux made a second comm, this time to a different division.

“Your orders, sir?” said another voice.

“Review the hologram of unit AA-23, starting at 05:30 today. Cadet HX-1138 requires a new uniform. You will receive a report shortly with specific details. Have it ready by 12:00. Any issues, you correspond with me, and me alone. Understood?”

“Roger, sir.”

“Very good; Hux out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This chapter is slightly shorter, but I'm happier with it than I was with the first.  
> \- Chapter 3 is twice the length of this one.  
> \- I have no idea how comlinks work and I'm looking for sources on that.  
> \- Given that we don't know what Hux's forename is, I've given him a cadet identity code. I had a lot of fun with the codes in this chapter. I'll do my best to keep dropping references for y'all.  
> \- I'm writing this much faster than I thought I could. Chapter 3 will follow swiftly.  
> \- As always, comments and criticism are much appreciated.


	3. Uniform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We delve into young Hux's mind as he experiences the consequences of his father's orders.

Young Hux knew he was in trouble the moment his lesson ended and he saw his block supervisor striding towards him. He had been in trouble for minor offences before: small mistakes that were more shortcomings than anything else. This was the first time he had knowingly, willingly, broken the rules. Hux knew what awaited him and he knew that his father would find out about it eventually. He resolved to take his punishment like a stoic; his father would probably care more about his reaction to it than about the offences themselves.  
Hux stood to attention, saluting his superior.

“HX-1138. Follow me.” Hux obeyed, walking behind with perfect posture and a firm stride. He held his head up as he marched to his fate. He imagined he was a captured prisoner of war, being paraded through enemy streets. If he ever ended up in such a position Hux had promised himself that he would not let anything break his resolve. He never wanted to give the enemy the satisfaction of seeing him upset. He would knock himself unconscious before he showed any sign of mental weakness before them. If he were capable of walking after being captured, he would move as he was now: proudly and resolutely. If not, then… he would come up with a plan for that later.

They came to an abrupt halt, with Hux so immersed in playing the fallen hero that he almost walked right into his supervisor’s back. _This isn’t the usual site of punishment_ , Hux thought. He daren’t ask where they were — you never spoke to a senior office unless spoken to first.  
“In we go,” the officer said, ushering him in. The room was a perfect cube, bright white, with no viewports. Hux had to squint to keep the brightness from hurting his eyes. The room was empty, save for two chairs in the centre. The officer motioned for him to take one, while he took the other.

“Now, HX-1138, do you know why you’re here?”

Hux had been taught honesty, and to admit fault when he was culpable. “Yes, sir.”

“And why is that?”

“I broke the rules, sir.”

“Tell me what you did.”

Hux gulped. He tried to remember the several offences he had committed that morning. “I didn’t eat breakfast,” Hux began. “I didn’t take my five minutes in the sonic. I used bad words, sir. I didn’t comb my hair properly and I didn’t arrive on deck with my boots all done up.”

“Indeed, HX-1138. But there was something else, wasn’t there.” It wasn’t a question.

Hux couldn’t remember what he’d forgotten to list. The officer was silent, waiting for Hux to admit his fault. Hux honestly couldn’t remember what else he had done. He looked down at his boots, not wanting to meet the officer’s gaze. His boots were black, shiny, reflecting the brightness of the room. They complemented the deep, navy blue of his uniform … _his uniform_. Suddenly, with a sinking stomach, Hux remembered his trespass, perhaps the worst offence of all.

“I… I got changed in my quarters, sir,” Hux replied after a painfully long silence.

“HX-1138. A cadet with top marks, never out of line before. You knew it was a violation of protocol. Yet you did it anyway. Why?”  
“I was running late, sir,” said Hux. Anticipating the officer’s next question, he added: “I overslept and I didn’t want to be late reporting on deck.”

The officer took a deep breath, and Hux expected a deafening tirade, but his superior continued speaking in the same measured tone as before. “You overslept because you are **undisciplined**. You failed to complete all steps in your routine because you are **lazy**. You were on time reporting on deck because **your values are superficial** , caring only about **appearing** on time and not about whether you were adequately prepared. Officers have lost their lives for cutting corners, HX-1138, and brought about the deaths of their own troops,” he stated. “Are you listening?”

Hux nodded silently. Shaking, the young Hux was absorbing every word. Instead of being upset, he found himself angry. He was furious with himself, because he knew what the officer was saying was true. _How can you expect to rule the Galaxy when you can’t even get out of bed on time?_ Hux berated himself. Not wanting to hear more but without a choice, Hux listened to the officer continue his monologue.

“… today, you brought **disorder** to this Academy, HX-1138.” The officer accentuated the word. **_Dis-order_**. It echoed in Hux’s head. “ **Dis-order** leads to —” he said, standing, “chaos —” he pulled out a short metal canister, “chaos leads to ruin —” he pressed a button, activating the emergence of a retractable, tapered rod — “and ruin… leads to an enemy victory. **Always** ,” the officer said, cracking the supple rod against the floor so that the room rung with the screech of metal on metal.

 _“Disorder.” You hear that? You’re a disgrace,_ said the voice. _You’re going to fail and tarnish the Hux name. You could never live up to the accomplishments of the old Empire_. Hux felt hot tears spring to his eyes. _Don’t you dare cry; you’ve embarrassed yourself enough already._ He blinked back his tears and tried to distract himself by assessing how painful this thrashing would be.

 _I’ll bruise horribly, barely be able to move for combat tomorrow._ Hux thought. _If he doesn’t do this right, he might even break the skin. Or maybe that’s the point_.

“HX-1138. You know how this works. How old are you?”

“Twelve, sir.”  
  
“Then twelve it shall be. Twelve on, or eleven off?”

“Eleven off, sir,” Hux replied without hesitation. He had once seen two older cadets, large boys of maybe 18 or 19, disciplined this way in front of everyone. The rumour was that they snuck out after hours and the night patrol had caught them hiding in a storage room together.

At assembly the following morning, both were dragged to the deck and flogged in front of the entire school. They were given the same choice: more strokes with your trousers on, or fewer with them off. It was Academy fashion, for want of a better word, to select the fewer number of strokes with the added pain and humiliation of being struck on bare skin. It was a choice that said, “do your worst; I can take it,” a choice for which you earned respect.

Hux got up, lowered his trousers and undergarments, and bent over his seat to take his punishment. The first stroke was always the mildest, the second stroke the worst, and if you were lucky, you’d be so numb by the final stroke that you wouldn’t feel it. Everything in between, you could try to tune out. It had worked before.

Hux tried to look elsewhere but there was nothing else in the room. The walls were too bright for him to look at them. _They’re like that so there are no distractions_ , Hux realised.

Hux closed his eyes, ready for the switch to come down across his backside. He had endured this before; he could endure it again. If he were a real prisoner of war, he would almost definitely be tortured. _This is good practice_ , Hux thought to himself.

He waited. And waited. The pain didn’t come. He wondered for a moment if he had done it, if he had successfully tuned out the whole ordeal.

Unable to stop himself, Hux turned around to find the officer rooted to the spot with the switch limp in his hand. Staring at his exposed rear. Hux gave him a quizzical look. What in the blazes was wrong with the man? Was he ever going to hit him?

“HX-1138… get dressed. You are dismissed,” the officer said quietly. Hux was dumbfounded. Had he really just gotten away without being beaten?

“Are you deaf? I said get dressed and **get out**!” Hux heard the _whoosh_ of the officer’s switch as it grazed his check. _That was for not being fast enough_ , Hux thought. _He could’ve knocked me unconscious if he wanted_. Hux pulled his clothes back on as fast as he could. He could feel the officer’s eyes on him as he dressed, and it made him uneasy. He left as swiftly as possible, breaking into a run as soon as he was out the door.

He checked his chrono again. It was almost lunchtime. His punishment, if he could call it that, had taken up more time than he thought. Hux was ravenous; he had missed breakfast and gone straight from assembly into combat. Combat was always first thing in the morning and it was never a good idea to do it on an empty stomach. He made a beeline for the dining room, not caring what was on the menu.

He sat down with his food and shovelled in as much as he could eat, not really caring to taste it. As he chewed, he couldn’t get the image of the officer staring at him, stripped from the waist down, out of his head. _Why didn’t he hit me?_ Hux wondered. _Did he just want to stare at me and try to intimidate me?_ None of it made sense.

Hux polished off the last of what he was almost certain was some form of stew, when a droid rolled towards him. He didn’t know what model it was, but he knew it was from the sartorial department. All the droids were colour coded so that anyone regardless of rank or status could return them to the appropriate division if they ever went amiss — a good system, Hux thought.

“HX-1138.” The droid recited his identification code.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“This way, if you please.”

Hux wasn’t entirely sure where droids like this fell in the ranks of the Academy, whether they were above or below him as a cadet. Either way, he had been taught to follow orders to the letter, even if they were coming from a non-sentient bundle of wires and buttons.

Hux followed the droid to the dressing chamber where several more droids awaited him along with the department head, Leikmata. Hux had always liked her. She was friendly and efficient, and Hux admired her leadership. Plus, she was in charge of the uniform that he loved so much.

“Hello HX-1138,” Leikmata said.

“Hi ma’am,” Hux replied, grateful to tear his thoughts away from the scene in the discipline chamber.

“I received a report this morning that you are in need of a new uniform. Step up there for me, that’s it. And take your clothes off; you can wear your new ones once we’re done.”

This was news to Hux. He didn’t think he needed a new uniform, but he wasn’t going to say no to one. He divested himself of his clothing _for the second time today,_ he noted, stuck his arms out, and let the droids take his measurements.  
“Hmm. You’re growing,” Leikmata said.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but less convenient for me if you’re going to keep doing it,” she replied dryly.

Hux smiled, the first time that day. He and Leikmata shared a sense of humour and she was probably the only adult at the Academy to ever show that she had one. The officers bantered and snickered, but they never shared the source of their jokes with cadets.

“Now, this uniform is almost the same as your last one,” she said. “Only, there’s one significant change. In here —” she gestured towards the undershirt, “is a built-in compressor. It’s for your chest,” she explained. “It might be a little uncomfortable the first little while, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Wait — it has a what?”

“It has a compressor. It will keep your chest flat. As I said, you’re growing,” Leikmata repeated. “Try it on.”

Hux obeyed, pulling the thing over his head. It was tight, and restricted his upper body mobility more than he would have liked. He struggled to breathe, and could have sworn the compressor was bruising his side.

“How long do I have to wear this for?” Hux asked.

“Well it’s your uniform, so whenever you have to wear that,” she said. “Try not to wear it for more than eight hours at a stretch,” she instructed. Hux would have sighed, if it weren’t for the compressor.

“Don’t look so down,” Leikmata said. “You look splendid. Besides, your collar is in better condition, your sleeves are the correct length, and if you look closely, your crest is updated. The other cadets won’t get this version for weeks,” she said, trying to comfort him. “Well, put the rest of it on and be on your way. You’ll be late for your lesson if not.”

Resigned, Hux obeyed. _It’s probably because I’m in an accelerated program_ , Hux thought. _The older cadets probably have to put up with the same thing and are trained well enough not to express issue_.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Hux tried to concentrate in his lessons (military history, tactics, and arms manufacturing) but was too distracted by his new uniform. He couldn’t get it to sit right and he could feel it pushing against his ribcage and constricting him. When his last lesson was over, Hux headed straight for the ’fresher, glad to get out of his uniform and into the sonic after missing his turn that morning. As he stood in the sonic, cleaning himself up from the day’s work, the image of the officer’s eyes surfaced again, and with it everything that he had said. _You’re useless_ , the voice said. _Shut up_ , Hux thought. _Shut up. I’ll show you. I’m here to learn and train. I’ll get better. You’ll see. You’ll all see._

Hux stepped out of the sonic, put on his sleepwear and went back to his room. He lay down and fell asleep almost instantly, worn out.  
  
He slept fitfully, dreaming that he was back in that room, completely naked, and the officer was beating him with the switch over and over. He had lost count of the lashes he received, far more than twelve. Unable to take the pain any longer, Hux collapsed on the ground and looked up at the officer, whose eyes stared down at him. And then the officer morphed into his father with a voice that thundered louder than anything he had ever heard before. _“Disgrace. Failure. Disappointment. Disorder. Disgrace. Failure. Disappointment. Disorder. Disgrace. Failure. Disappointment. Disorder,”_ his father repeated. _Shut up!_ Hux yelled, but no sound came out. Laughter, from many sources began to drown out his father’s voice, overwhelming it. The laughter screeched, like the sound of the officer’s switch hitting the floor. Hux got up and ran out of the room — right into Leikmata, her once-friendly smile twisted cruelly. She clothed the still naked Hux in his uniform, the compressor squeezing the air out of his lungs. _Help, I can’t breathe!_ He tried to shout. When he opened his mouth yet more air escaped and he passed out, unable to even gasp for more oxygen.  
  
Hux woke with a start, panting and sweating. It took a moment for him to realise that he could breathe. He took several grateful gulps of air, internally reprimanding himself for being afraid of a dream. _How humiliating,_ said the voice. _What a great start you’re off to. Imagine if they could see you now. That officer. Commandant Hux. Leikmata._

 _Tomorrow is a new day_ , Hux told himself. He wasn’t going to be late tomorrow, or any day after that. He was never going to make any mistakes ever again. _Don’t be afraid_ , the voice said. _You will be perfect._

Hux lay down and drifted off to sleep once more, but not before his inevitable failure, self-loathing, and the unwelcome feel of the officer’s eyes on his body returned to taunt him one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content notes:
> 
> \- Chapters 2 and 3 were originally part of the same chapter, but I split them. I think it worked better that way.  
> \- Hux’s punishment is inspired by that in British public schools in the early Twentieth Century. In the account I read, the author went with more strokes with clothing on. I couldn’t see that being the “fashionable” choice at the Academy.  
> \- Leikmata’s name is taken from that of Sena Leikvoid Midanyl, with the suffix “mata” as a homophone for “mater.”  
> \- I always wished I had clothing with a built-in binder. How Hux experiences it is a subversion of that desire.  
> \- Hux didn’t eat dinner that day; the cadets are responsible for making their own dinner as part of their training. The Academy doesn’t punish them for not eating dinner because if they choose not to, it's their fault. If they fail the survival skills part of the course, then too bad.
> 
> Personal Notes: 
> 
> \- This is the first time I’ve ever written a dream sequence.  
> \- This was a very challenging chapter to write. I'd really like to know what you thought of it.  
> \- If there are things in this story I haven't tagged (especially if they are triggering) please let me know and I will tag it for you.  
> \- Chapter 4 is on its way!


	4. Bloodsport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren reflects on his own childhood and relationship with Hux. He sees young Hux at combat practice, where a pivotal event gives Commandant Hux the reason he needs to speak to his son. **Content warning: this chapter contains blood and vomit.** Not a lot of it, but I'm putting the warning here anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued support. I cannot tell you how much it means to see such a positive reception to this fic.  
> On another note, I've finally worked up the courage to share [my tumblr](http://thethirstorder.tumblr.com) with you, if you'd like to interact with me there.  
> I hope this chapter lives up to expectations!

Kylo Ren was silent. He was still reeling from the intensity of Hux’s dream. If _he_ was shocked and startled, he couldn’t imagine how Hux must be feeling.

“Are you all r— how are you feeling?” Kylo asked, reformulating his question mid-sentence.

“Exhausted,” Hux said truthfully.

“Do you want to take a break for a bit?”  
  
“Yes, actually. I just… I’ll let you know when I’m ready to have you in my head again.”

Kylo squeezed his hand in response. They were silent for a few moments, Hux lying there with his eyes closed, not asleep, but not quite awake either. Hux was well aware of what Kylo Ren’s life at 12 years old had been like; Ren had divulged his background to Hux early on in their professional rapport when Hux walked in on him destroying a console with his lightsaber and **demanded** to know the reasons behind his outburst. To Hux’s surprise, Ren had explained everything, barring his relationship with the Supreme Leader.

For some reason that Kylo Ren could not identify or articulate, he thought Hux trustworthy; the man was always measured, in control, and never faltered in his own self-confidence. These were traits of which Ren was envious, and he hated Hux for his mastery of them. Yet the highly-strung Ren had blurted out everything to the orderly General Hux, who had not mocked Ren as anticipated but furrowed his brow in either bewilderment or sympathy; Ren couldn’t tell at the time.

At 12, Kylo had settled into his Jedi training, learning the ways of the Force. Knowing Hux’s story now, Kylo thought, they might not have been so different. Kylo Ren had his own nightmares and his own _voice_ haunting him. Only the voice was Snoke’s and it wasn’t just inside his head, it followed him, watched him. It was always there, in the shadows, with him from conception. Snoke seduced the young padawan, preyed upon his biggest insecurities and his biggest sources of rage —

 _No_ , Ren thought. _The Supreme Leader is wise. He taught you to overcome those insecurities and to channel that anger into greatness. You are a powerful Force-user because of his training._ _The nightmares were temporary, a childish thing._

Snoke had also led him to Hux. _Without Snoke_ , Kylo thought, _you would never have met him_. Kylo Ren did not wish to continue with this train of thought any longer. In search of a distraction, he resumed conversation with Hux.

“Did you ever find out why that officer didn’t hit you?” Kylo asked, suspecting the answer.

“I never received confirmation, but I have every reason to believe it was because he was horrified by my body. That seems more likely than him being seized by a merciful impulse,” Hux said tersely. “He didn’t _expect_ me,” Hux said, echoing the phrasing he had used with Kylo.

“Oh.” Kylo wished he could think up a better response. Hux was the one with the practical solutions, whether it be something he could do to make Kylo feel better, or a rational explanation for what he was feeling. _That’s Hux_ , Kylo thought, _grounded in rationality._ Failing to think of anything remotely useful or comforting, Kylo moved to the next question.

“How did you make it so long without the other cadets finding out?” Kylo Ren could be tactful when the situation required it, but he was terrible at asking questions. No matter how gently or carefully he phrased them, they always sounded like an interrogation _._ Unsurprisingly, Ren’s interrogations were notoriously successful and everybody on the _Finalizer_ knew that when Ren was sent to interrogate a captive, he would get what he was looking for. Ren always got what he wanted.

Hux ignored Kylo’s accusatory and impatient tone — he was well used to it by now and knew it wasn’t intentional.

“Well, my uniform and eventually all my other kit had one of those blasted compressors, so nobody noticed during the day. At night, I took up changing in a stall in the ’fresher. Not because anyone ever pointed or was rude or did anything, it was because I had begun to feel… out of place. Wrong.” It was difficult for Hux to admit this, Kylo sensed. _We’ve started this whole conversation and once it’s done with, he’ll never have to have it again_. Kylo traced Hux’s thought pattern and then left him, until he was next permitted in.

“I had picked up by that point that men and women of our species were, I guess, ‘supposed’ to have different bodies. The Academy took everyone and it was only our living quarters that were gender-segregated.”

“I was more confused than anything else because nobody actually explained my… my _situation_ until they had to,” Hux continued.

“And you never asked?”

“I didn’t have the opportunity to do so.” _I didn’t know how to ask. I didn’t know how to admit that I didn’t know myself, who I was. **What I was,**_ Hux thought, not caring whether Kylo heard him or not.

“What did you think before you got that explanation?”

“The theory I had was that I’d inherited things like my hair colour and facial structure from my father, and things like my body shape and genitalia from my mother. It was a theory consistent with the idea that we’re a mixture of our parents’ genetics.” Kylo smiled; even when horribly uninformed, young Hux could explain his way out of anything.  
  
“Oh, don’t look at me like that!” Hux snapped, turning red with embarrassment. “I grew up in exile in the Unknown Regions and didn’t so much as see another person outside of my family until I went to the Academy. My parents weren’t exactly the most forthright of people and my father went out of his way to keep everything me for as long as was practical. He had his reasons but it doesn’t mean they did me any good. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you would excuse my **kriffing ignorance** , Kylo Ren,” Hux seethed.

“I’m sorry,” Kylo apologised. “That’s not what I meant.”

Hux gave no answer. Scowling slightly, he waved his hand in Kylo’s direction. _You may resume_ , Hux thought, knowing that he would snap at Kylo again if he said it aloud. Without hesitation, Kylo plunged back into Hux’s memories.

Fourteen-year-old Hux was in a training salon, dressed all in white with loose-fitting breeches and a sleeveless shirt. Hux had protective tape bound around his arms, from his knuckles to his mid-forearms. He held a wooden staff, about a metre and a half long, in his hands.

Hux’s physique had changed dramatically; now more lean than slender. He was not big enough to be bulky, but he definitely looked powerful, Kylo thought. His hair was out of regulation style, mussed from his exercise. Hux’s features were sharp yet delicate and he had outgrown most of his freckles. He would have been pale had he not been flushed with exertion. Hux’s chest was completely flat. _Ah,_ thought Kylo. _They must have put compressors in everything he owned by that point._

Young Hux assumed his combat stance, feet apart, knees bent ever so slightly, torso upright, and staff in both hands angled across his body. His opponent waited at the other side of the salon, poised in the same fashion. They were shorter than Hux, with broad shoulders and dark hair cropped short like Hux’s. They wielded a staff of the same length despite their comparatively diminutive height. Hux recognised them; they had been in some of the same lessons and he thought he had seen them in blaster practice too.

The two cadets walked half the length of the room to meet in the middle and saluted each other. It was a silent acknowledgement that they would fight with respect and that one-day they might even head into battle side-by-side.

Their instructor, watching from the sidelines, initiated three short beeps of a different tone each, to signal the start of the bout. Neither cadet moved at first, each trying to read the other. Suddenly they lunged forward swinging their staff at Hux, who pushed back with his own to block them. Twirling his staff in his hands, Hux knocked their hand out the way. Dropping one hand to his side, he reached out to make contact but he was a fraction of a second too slow, for they flicked their wrist and deftly parried the attack and responding with another attempt to hit him. Hux took two steps back to dodge them; they missed and steadied themselves with both hands on their staff once more.

Kylo Ren could feel the excitement radiating from Hux as he realised he was revelling in the exercise. Kylo was surprised; he had never seen Hux on the battlefield and he’d always thought Hux too squeamish and too much above doing the dirty work to be good at combat. Kylo had only ever seen him devising battle plans, formulating strategies, and commanding from afar. From that, it seemed logical to surmise that combat was not Hux’s strongest suit but from what Kylo could tell, Hux was a decent fighter, as was his opponent. _Whatever training program the Academy ran, it was doing is job_ , Kylo thought.

The contestants continued their silent match, communicating instead through their weapons. Hux remembered his training: _never forget, a one-on-one fight is a conversation. Your opponent’s moves will tell you things about them that words never could. On the battlefield, you’ll get to know your enemies faster than you came to know your friends._  
  
_Listen to their body. Feel how they move and learn to move around them. Cover your weaknesses and assert your strengths._  
  
Hux planted his staff on the ground, tensed his abdominal muscles, lept off the ground and spun his body around the staff in a graceful curve, avoiding yet another of his opponent’s blows.

_Like constructing a sentence in a discussion, you have to know what you want to achieve and how you’re going to achieve it. Technique is nothing without a plan. Having no strategy puts you on the defensive, and you don’t want to be there for too long._

They danced towards him, their footwork nimble, and almost succeeded in jabbing him in the shoulder. Hux responded by lowering his staff to catch their feet when a sharp pain tore through him. Hux’s hand instinctively moved to the site of the pain — his stomach, he thought — but the pain flashed through him again and he nearly dropped his staff.  
  
Hux’s opponent seized their chance; they swished their weapon across Hux’s back, knocking him to the ground; but Hux barely felt it because the pain in his stomach was rapidly increasing, as though his insides were being tightened. _Get up,_ he willed himself. _If you get wounded in real combat and you lie there, you die_. He forced himself to his feet again, just in time to sidestep them as they ran towards him with a resurgent attack.

Hux was barely able to concentrate. Every fibre of his being was screaming in protest, begging for him to curl up and not move. His insides twisted, as though they were a wet cloth being wrong dry.

_Every move is a potential victory — or a potential loss._

_Need a new plan_ , Hux thought foggily. _Can’t attack, too painful_. Tightening his grip on his staff, Hux flipped it so that it was horizontal and pushed it forward with both hands as his opponent hurtled towards him. They collided with Hux’s staff, their own momentum sending them crashing to the ground.

Truly struggling to stay on his feet, Hux extended his staff towards his opponent. This was the signal that they were at his mercy — that he had won the skirmish — but also a gesture to help them up. They took it but it wasn’t much help; Hux could no longer support himself let alone them. When they used the staff to leverage their weight they succeeded only in pulling him to the floor next to them.

“Hey, are you all right?” they asked him, as their instructor started towards them both.

“Not really… feel like I’m gonna be sick,” Hux croaked. _Mother of Kwath!_ Hux cursed himself and the weakness of his body. _Of course I had to get sick during combat._ He tried to console himself with the fact that he had won the bout, despite his sudden illness.

 _Yes, but look at you now. Does this feel like a victory?_ said the voice in Hux’s head. _Get up. You look pathetic.  
_ “HX-1138, SG-4931. That was a commendable performance, both of you,” said their instructor. “HX-1138, you turned a number of impressive tricks. Your execution was outstanding each time and your strong defence won you the match. But I didn’t see enough offensive. You have to fight back,” she said. “We can work on that next time.”

Hux barely heard her; he was trying to get up without doubling over in pain. Drained from the pain, his face was now devoid of colour and coated with a sheen of sweat. He leaned on his staff for support, shaking. Hux wanted nothing more than to leave but he waited for his dismissal. _You won,_ he thought. _Don’t ruin it now. You can go in a few moments, just a few moments longer._

Turning to SG-4931, who was now standing and brushing the dust off their clothing, the combat trainer offered similar feedback. “You led throughout,” she said. “Your endurance and speed are exceptional. However, your attacks need to be more varied. I know you’re capable of more advanced moves.”

“Shake hands and vacate; next round starts in five minutes.” The instructor dismissed them both with a wave of her hand.

“Ma’am, I think he’s —” began SG-4931, but their combat trainer had already turned her back and begun preparing the next two cadets for the next round. “HX-1138, do you need to go to medcentre?”

“Fresher first,” Hux said through gritted teeth. Pushing past them, he arduously made his way to the nearest training salon ’fresher, not knowing or caring whether he was in the correct one. He made for the nearest stall and vomited into the lavatory basin. Ordinarily, he felt much better after being sick, but the pain persisted. There was something else too: Hux felt an unpleasant, sticky sensation between his legs. Slipping his hand under the waistband of his underclothes, Hux located the feeling and was alarmed to find blood on his fingers. He looked down and saw that his white combat gear was beginning to stain red with it.

 _Hell! I’m bleeding out!_ Hux panicked. _I must have caught some atrocious disease and it’s consuming me slowly and painfully. Oh stars it hurts so much and there’s blood everywhere! What if there’s no cure for this? What if I die?_ Hux’s thoughts spiralled into an uncontrollable anxious turmoil and he struggled not to cry, both out of fear and pain.  
_  
**Pull yourself together,**_ said the voice. _You’re the future ruler of the Galaxy. What’s so scary about a little bit of blood?_ Hux paused, trying to calm himself. _You’re not going to die,_ it told him. _You’re going clean yourself up and get your arse to medcentre. Now._

Trying to breathe evenly, which was difficult to do while wearing his compressor-burdened shirt and worn out from the effort of combat, Hux loosened his breeches and wiped away as much of the blood as he could. He stuffed a handful of tissues in his underwear to try and mitigate the flow. Clenching his jaw and with one hand still on his abdomen, he walked stiffly to the turbolift that would take him to medcentre.  
  


* * *

  
Glancing at the alert on his datapad, Brendol Hux checked the medcentre registers and saw that his son had checked in. He reached for his comlink.

“Commandant?” asked the medic droid on the other end of the line.

“I know Cadet HX-1138 is with you. What’s the situation?”

“I received him. He took a turn in the sanisteam then I gave him Nyex and Comaren. I also administered a sanguineuter with a five-day lifespan.”

“What state was he in when he arrived?”

“Agitated, Commandant. Very anxious and in a lot of pain. He was most concerned about his bleeding. He didn’t know what was wrong with him.”

“Did you tell him?”  
  
“As per your direction, no sir. Instead, I reassured him that he would be all right and that we knew what to do.”  
  
“How is he now?”  
  
“Very stable. He is sleeping. He may be discharged tonight, tomorrow morning at latest.”  
  
“Good. If he comes around before I get there, let him know that his father is coming to see him. If he’s still asleep by the time I arrive, do not wake him up. In either case, I want the ward cleared of all droids and personnel, including you.”

“Understood, Commandant.”

“Hux out.”

Brendol Hux sighed. He leaned on the arm of his chair, his chin resting on his hand. With his other hand he motioned for his personal droid DDM-38 to approach.  
  
“DeeDee,” Hux said, “We’re going to visit my son. We’ll need to bring a few things. To my quarters, come.”

* * *

  
When Brendol Hux arrived at the medcentre with DDM-38 in tow, young Hux was still asleep. He slept peacefully; the painkillers had granted him dreamless rest.

The elder Hux approached his bed and tenderly laid his hand on his son’s forehead. He kept it there for no more than a couple of seconds, before withdrawing and settling himself on a chair next to Hux’s bed. Taking out his datapad, he passed the time by reviewing the day’s reports.

About an hour later, young Hux stirred on the bed. He opened his eyes groggily and before he could even take in his surroundings, he found himself looking into the eyes of Commandant Brendol Hux, his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Notes:
> 
> \- SG-4931 uses “they” pronouns because they do not have a gender. When they enrolled in the Academy, they left the gender designation field blank, which is a legitimate option in this universe.  
> \- The sanguineuter is my own creation. It is a combination of a tampon and the implant, a form of contraception available in the UK that remains effective for three years. One of the implant’s possible side effects is stopping your periods.  
> \- Instead of expelling the blood, the sanguineuter enables absorption of the blood back into the body, where its nutrients can be broken down and used. The sanguineuter dissolves when its lifespan expires and they can have lifespans ranging from a few hours to few years.  
> \- The sanguineuter doesn’t alleviate pain, but there is research being done to create dual function sanguineuters. Until they are developed, people who menstruate in this universe rely on a combination of these and of painkillers from SW canon.  
> \- Sanguineuters are administered in the same way as a tampon with an applicator is inserted. The user, someone else, or a medic droid can do this. Once it is in, you cannot feel it.  
> \- DDM-38 is canon and she’s basically C-3P0 with “feminine programming.” I have always found it strange that droids are gendered.  
> \- [Irrelevant, but related]: in the novelisation of TFA, BB-8 is referred to with both “he” and “it” pronouns. 
> 
> Personal Notes:
> 
> \- This is the first time I have ever written a combat scene. The only kind of combative background I have is that I fence and have done for around eight years. I figured that a fencing scene would be unrealistic because swords (and lightsabers) are old-fashioned.  
> \- Although the troops in SW all use blasters, I couldn’t imagine them not being trained in close combat like this.  
> \- Hux's musings about combat and likening it to a conversation come from my own opinions of fencing. I have been fencing on and off for about eight years now and I always perceived it as an exercise in strategy, like chess. For once, I'm satisfied with how I wrote that part.  
> \- Hux experiencing his first menstrual cycle during combat is inspired by an incident in which I got my period during a PE lesson.  
> \- I support Hux’s explanation of bodies and genitalia: they’re just something you inherit. I believe that the various functionalities of different bodies and body parts should be explained and differentiated, but not in gendered terms.


	5. Freely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendol Hux finally has The Conversation with his son. Unfortunately for him, Hux has most of it figured out already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the length of time it took for me to post this chapter. My classes have resumed and I have less free time to write, but this fic will definitely be concluded before the end of March, likely earlier.

Brendol Hux never gave his son special treatment at the Academy; he behaved towards him as with any other cadet. Young Hux rarely saw him outside of assembly and the occasional training session, some of which the elder Hux liked to observe from time to time. Hux had a cadet identity code like all the others, who didn’t even know he was the Commandant’s son. For the Academy staff, that knowledge was confidential and only disclosed if absolutely necessary.  
  
Upon recognising the Commandant, Hux blinked and shook himself awake, despite the medication-induced drowsiness. He saluted to the best of his bedbound ability and greeted him. “Commandant.”  
_  
_ “At ease — ” Brendol Hux hesitated over how to address his son for the duration of the conversation. The line between the personal and the professional was as important to him now as with any member of Academy staff and the decision to cross it was even more so. He decided to put off the issue until a decision became absolutely necessary. “At ease,” he repeated with certainty.

 _He’s here to tell me I’ve failed him_ , young Hux thought miserably. _I’m weak and sick and disorderly. I’m damaged goods. Curse this damn body and its stupid limitations_. Hux was preparing himself for the scolding of a lifetime when the elder Hux began to speak.  
  
“I heard you were outstanding in combat practice today,” Brendol Hux said warmly. Hux almost gasped in surprise — of all the words he expected to come out of the Commandant’s mouth, these were not among them. The pain of his sudden illness had eclipsed Hux’s memory of his morning performance. He could not remember whether he had done well or not.  
  
“Thank you Commandant,” Hux replied, not knowing what else to say.

“How are you feeling?” Brendol Hux asked.  
  
The Commandant’s enquiry was as unexpected as his praise. Hux’s suspicion increased: not once before had a senior officer ever asked him how he felt. Remembering his lessons, Hux decided to take the question at face value and answer honestly.  
  
“Much better sir. I almost feel well. Still a little tired though, sir,” Hux said hesitantly, failing to keep his suspicion from showing in his glance. This was not how Hux thought this day was going to go.  
  
Brendol Hux pulled his seat nearer to his son’s bed and leaned forward. He took a deep breath. _Now let’s not make this awkward_ , Brendol Hux thought. _If you can train him, you can talk to him._ The elder Hux could not put off his decision any longer. He cleared his throat.

“Nerio Vespasian Hux. You may call me ‘Brendol.’ You may also address me as ‘father.’ You are to — you may — speak freely to me, as I shall speak freely with you,” he said, amending his command to a grant of permission. “You can also ask me questions. As many as you have,” he added quickly. “And you will not be disciplined for anything you say or how you say it.”  
  
Nerio Hux — he had not been called by his forename in years — was shocked into silence. He was having kittens by the litter and did his utmost not to let his confusion and panic show in his face. Commandant Hux — no, his father — was telling him to forget every order that he had been raised to follow, the orders around which his life revolved, around which his father’s life also revolved. _But why? This is so damn **weird**. _ Nerio felt a strange impulse to laugh; the situation was so unexpected to the point of absurdity! He held in his laughter; Brendol hadn’t said he could laugh.  
  
_Why the hell is all of this happening?_  
  
Nerio decided that “why” was a very good question, the answer to which he was more than entitled. Remembering Brendol’s permission, he uttered the one word that would begin one of the most challenging conversations of his life, his voice so quiet that it was almost a whisper.  
“Why?”

“Because we are father and son and we must be able to speak as such. Commandant Hux and HX-1138 could never have this conversation, but Brendol and Nerio can,” Brendol said. “I shall begin by explaining why you are here.”  
  
“You are experiencing menstruation, which is completely normal and healthy. This is because your body houses reproductive organs designed for childbearing. Since you are not going to bear children this month, nor for many future months I hope, your body is expelling that which it does not need. That is what happened to you during combat today. Medcentre has provided you with a device that will stop the blood from inconveniencing you further, as well as painkillers so you do not feel it. Do you follow?”

Nerio nodded, silent still. “So… so this will happen to me every month that I do not have children?”  
  
“Yes. It is a sign that you are healthy and that everything… everything works, so to speak. Do you remember your mother? That time she was very unwell and did not leave her bed for several days? That was because she was menstruating and the lifespan of her sanguineuter had expired. Our supply of painkillers was depleted. We lived in the Unknown Regions and it was days before we could acquire replacements for her.” Brendol spoke that last sentence with a twinge of anger, his lip curling bitterly. Brendol had felt responsible and couldn’t stand to see her in pain.

Nerio Hux did remember his mother. She rarely fell ill and he remembered that time she had lain in the darkness of her room for what seemed like forever to him. He remembered having terrible dreams that week, dreams in which she died over and over again, a pool of blood blossoming around her lifeless body.

“Did you think something was dreadfully wrong with you when you started bleeding?” Brendol asked, knowing the answer already.

“Yes. Yes, I did. I thought I was going to bleed out and die,” Nerio said, surprised at his own candidness. He paused, still unused to asking for information and thereby exposing his ignorance. “If it’s a good thing, why… why didn’t I know about it before? Why didn’t I expect it? I wouldn’t have panicked so much if I had.”

Brendol sighed. When his son was born, he made a choice that would influence Nerio’s perception of who he was and who he would be. A choice that would define his very being and shape his self-confidence. Brendol Hux, the man who issued hundreds of orders a day that could end lives, make or break careers and each order decisive; the Commandant who never second-guessed himself or ever wavered in his beliefs, had too often wondered whether this was the right decision.  
  
It was the only decision he had ever questioned. Most days, the Commandant worked without thinking about it, but at random moments and often when he was alone the thought would surface and trouble him. _What if I made the wrong choice? What if I ruined Nerio’s life before he could talk?_  
When Nerio Hux came into the world, screaming his tiny lungs out, the medic droid attending to his wife and child had congratulated Brendol on the birth of his daughter. Brendol corrected it, said _Thank you, but this is my son,_ and that was the first and last time young Hux was referred to as female.  
  
“I didn’t want you to think of yourself as different,” Brendol said slowly. “I didn’t want you to be self-conscious. I wanted you to grow up content with who you are, and confident. You are capable of great things Nerio Hux, and I never wanted you to doubt that.”

 _But I am self-conscious,_ Nerio thought. _I am different._ He tried to remember when he started to feel uncomfortable in his body. _That day I got a new uniform,_ he recalled. _No — before then. Watching the other cadets sparring shirtless outside in the sun when it was warm. Standing next to them as we changed in the ’fresher. When we talked off-duty. Even before then — when I arrived at the Academy, the first night in fact. When I saw the others…_ Nerio had known he was different before he could explain it.

The realisation set in and Nerio found himself angry. His father had chosen his gender and not told him how his body worked. It was true: Nerio had been confident in who he was but that confidence was founded upon deception. Nobody had taunted him or told him flat-out that he was anything other than a boy, but the torment he had suffered by trying to explain his way out of everything was the trade-off. His father could have saved him from that.

“But I am different, father. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? I knew before I could say,” Nerio said, his voice rising. “You chose my gender and decided not to tell me. What gave you the right to do that? Why did you choose to keep me uninformed until it became impractical for you? What kind of bantha fodder is this? I bet you would have kept this from me my whole life if you could have, and left me to figure it out!”

Brendol Hux was silent. He couldn’t bring himself to meet his son’s eye _. Look him in the eye, and tell him_ , Brendol ordered himself. _You owe him that._

“Most parents choose their child’s gender,” he began. “However, determining gender based on genitals and body shape is a practice more common on undeveloped worlds. Your mother and I do not subscribe to such ideas. We always wanted a son, we always wanted **you**. I wanted the best for you, and I did what I thought was best at the time.” That was as close to an admission of guilt that Brendol Hux could express.

“Yeah, well maybe most parents have it wrong! I don’t care whether you agree with whatever they do on other dirtballs! If you didn’t teach me to hate myself, everyone else has! What does it **even mean** for me to be your son rather than your daughter, or anything else? The only reason I didn’t doubt who I was is because I don’t know how to be anything **other** than your son! Now that I know, you think I like this?” Nerio shouted, gesturing at himself. “Tell me, **father** ,” he spat, “what are you going to do now? How the hell am I going to continue like this? The differences between me and them are only going to get more obvious. I’ve seen! What’s your damn solution, huh?”

Not waiting for a response, Nerio Hux continued his tirade, the pain of fourteen years cracking his voice and making him tremble all over. “Do you even have a kriffing solution? You know what, I don’t care. I don’t want to talk to you anymore. No way in Malachor am I going to stay here and listen to you try and tell me you know what’s best for me. I’ll figure it out myself like I did before.” He rolled over, turning his back on his father.  
“Nerio —”

“ **Don’t call me that!”** Hux snarled. “We’re done here, **Commandant**.”

Brendol Hux stood up slowly. He motioned for DDM-38 to approach Hux’s bed. He took a box from the droid’s hands and placed it on Hux’s bedside table. “As you wish,” Brendol said, quietly. “I brought you some things. I’m leaving them here on the nightstand. You’re off-duty for the rest of today.” Hux did not move or acknowledge Commandant Hux’s words.

The Commandant knew better than to touch his son or to address him by name or by cadet code, but still wanted to say goodbye, somehow. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Instead, he turned on his heel and stepped out of the ward, his boots clicking on the medcentre floor. Despite himself, he glanced over his shoulder at his son, whose back was still turned towards him.

When he was sure his father was gone, Hux rolled over in bed again and sat up just in time to see the flash of DDM-38’s black finish disappearing around the corner. He recognised her from his childhood. She had been there since his birth and had supervised him when his parents were otherwise occupied. Hux wished he had noticed she was with his father; he hadn’t seen the droid outside of her Academy duties since the last time he had been called by his first name.  
  
Clenching his fists and pressing his nails into his palms, Hux punched his pillows and cursed under his breath. Thoroughly unsatisfied with the lack of destruction he had achieved, he turned onto his stomach and screamed into the pillows, as loudly as he could. Hux hated his father for making him suffer through his own development without knowing what was happening to him. He hated everyone who had followed his father’s orders and aided in his deception. But most of all, he hated himself.  
  
Hux lay on his side, tears streaming down his face, onto his nose, past his mouth and darkening the sheets. He cried himself to exhaustion and slept again.  
  


* * *

Back in his quarters, Brendol Hux paced. He knew it was a waste of energy to pace, but he did so anyway. He didn’t want to think about his decision, the one decision that he had ever questioned, so he thought about the box next to Nerio’s bed instead. He had given his son a communicator, in the now unlikely event that he wanted to talk to him about any of this again, and a datapad that contained news articles, research briefings, and information on hormone replacement therapy and surgeries that he might want to consider. The information in the datapad would be more helpful than anything Brendol could have tried to explain himself.

  
Brendol had also left him a couple of holodramas that he thought Nerio might want to watch while he was recuperating, as well as some chocolates, which were a rarity at the Academy and a luxury that was very difficult to come by. He wasn’t sure if Nerio had ever eaten chocolate before. They certainly hadn’t had it at home and to his knowledge it didn’t feature on the Academy menus. Brendol hoped he would like it, if he got as far as opening the box.

Brendol Hux stopped pacing, flung himself into his armchair and buried his face in his hands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Notes:
> 
> \- Brendol Hux and his relationship to his son are fascinating to me. I don’t think that Hux would be as effective a leader as he is if the Commandant had been straight up cruel and abusive.  
> \- Canonically, Brendol Hux is charismatic and popular with the cadets and I cannot see how this could translate to anything other than fairness and positivity towards his son. I think that Brendol Hux loves his son and is well-intentioned.  
> \- Hux’s first and middle names are both Latin. “Nerio” is the name of a Roman war goddess, and Vespasian is the name of a Roman Emperor.  
> \- Once I decided I was going to name Hux, I knew I wanted him to have a polysyllabic first name because those are less common in the Star Wars universe.   
> \- Chapters 4 and 5, like 2 and 3, were planned as one but split into two. This will not change the length of the series overall.
> 
> Personal Notes:
> 
> \- This chapter was harder to write than Chapter 3 because it is so dialogue-driven.  
> \- I was extremely reluctant to name Hux. I tried to write this without giving Hux a first name, but the result was terrible writing.


	6. Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux takes matters into his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the delay in publishing this. Life has been hectic but I'm still going to make good on my promise to complete this fic by the end of the month. In exchange, there is a lot more Kylux in this chapter than in the previous ones.
> 
> **Please note that the rating has gone up; there is sexual content in this chapter. Content warning: transphobia (misgendering, outing), surgery**

The sun was setting, the pink light spilling in through the _Finalizer_ ’s large viewports and tinting Hux’s ginger hair. The glow of the evening warmed Hux’s fair complexion, his pale lashes almost transparent and fluttering ever so slightly.

Kylo reached out and laid his hand on top of Hux’s. To his surprise, Kylo found Hux cold. Hux shivered slightly at the touch. He lay down next to Hux and gently nudged him onto his side so that he could curl his body around Hux’s.

“Your full name is Nerio Vespasian Hux,” Kylo said. Kylo had known Hux’s first name since the day he found out he was to be stationed on the _Finalizer_ , but this was the first time that Hux himself had revealed to him what it was. Kylo had never said the name aloud before, and he wanted to know what it felt like. _Nerio Vespasian Hux_ , Kylo said again, quietly. The name almost rolled off his tongue, the harsher consonants snagging in his mouth like caramel cut with salt.

“Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me,” Hux murmured sarcastically, his eyes still closed.

“You don’t like the name?”

“Indifferent to it.”

“What do you prefer to be called?”

“Hux is fine.”

“All right.” Kylo pulled Hux closer, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist.

“I’m sorry that your father kept all that from you,” Kylo said.

“So am I,” Hux said bitterly. He turned over to face Kylo, his bright gaze washing over Kylo’s face. Kylo left one hand around Hux’s waist and put the other on back of Hux’s head and threaded his fingers through the ginger strands, stroking through them over and over. He liked Hux’s hair almost as much as Hux liked Kylo’s. When it wasn’t slick with gel, it felt like feathers beneath his fingertips.

“I did open the box, you know,” Hux continued. “I went to sleep then and when I woke up, it was dark. I couldn’t sleep again after that, so I opened it.”  
  
Kylo Ren said nothing. Where Hux was eloquent, Kylo was silent. Where Kylo was expressive, Hux was unreadable. Wordlessly, Hux brought his hand up and placed it on Kylo’s arm, gliding over the ridges of Kylo’s sleeve fabric. In response, Kylo slid his hand from Hux’s hair to the small of his back, a finger tracing the path of Hux’s spine, while moving his other hand to rest on Hux’s hip. Hux gasped quietly from the sensation of both.

Kylo began to rub circles on Hux’s back, splaying his large hand and using his palm to ease the tension in Hux’s body. Kylo toyed idly with the hem of Hux’s tunic with his free hand.

Hux spoke first. “I’m not afraid.”

“I know.” Hux pushed himself up with one arm and pressed his mouth to Kylo’s in a kiss. Kylo kissed back, following Hux’s lead and enjoying the feeling of Hux’s soft lips on his. Hux parted his lips and slid his tongue into Kylo’s mouth. Pleasantly surprised at his lover’s boldness, Kylo returned the favour, but was careful not to exceed the level of assertion that Hux had set. When his tongue entered Hux’s mouth, his senses were flooded with Hux’s taste and that glorious, melting feeling as Hux ran his tongue over the points of Kylo’s teeth, felt the texture of Kylo’s tongue against his, flicked the roof of his mouth with the tip.

Kylo felt his desire heighten as Hux brought one knee up between Kylo’s thighs and tugged at Kylo’s robes impatiently. Kylo broke off the kiss so he could sit up and begin peeling off his inconveniently high number of layers. Hux made no move to remove any of his own clothing and watched Kylo instead.

When Kylo was naked to the waist, he stopped. “Hux. Should I…?”

“You’re hesitant.”

“I want to ensure you are comfortable.”

“Do you not want me?”

“Of course I do, Hux.”

“In that case, I would be much more comfortable if I were wearing less clothing,” Hux said, his eyes bright against his now flushed face. Kylo did not move. Hux sighed, took Kylo’s hand and placed it on his belt. “You may undress me, Kylo Ren.” It was an implicit command and one that Kylo was happy to follow; he had just needed Hux to indicate that he wanted it too. Kylo unbuckled Hux’s belt and dropped it to the floor. He helped Hux out of his tunic and pulled his undershirt off, so that he too was naked to the waist.

“Yes, I have scars,” Hux said, gesturing to two identical thin white lines on his chest, before Kylo could even notice. “Can you multitask?” Kylo nodded. “Good. I have one last thing to show you. But that doesn’t mean we have to stop.”

 

* * *

 

Nerio Hux awoke, his throat raw and his eyes sore from crying. Admittedly, he was well-rested but he still felt as weak and angry as before. _So much for sleep being helpful,_ Hux thought. He tried to think about all the lessons he had missed that day; he was supposed to have had spacecraft design, mathematics, and dance. He wasn’t so fond of the latter and he excelled in mathematics but the subject was not challenging enough to be interesting. Spacecraft design, though, he absolutely loved.

Many of the other cadets considered it secondary knowledge, preferring blaster practice and marksmanship to theory and design, but Hux revelled in it, staying up late studying diagrams of spaceship parts and devising new formulae for efficiency. In his head, he mapped out blueprints of everything he dreamed of creating. One day when he was ruler of the Galaxy, he would be able to build himself a whole fleet of starships, form cities from barren worlds, and invent weapons powerful enough to start and end a war within seconds of a single button click.

Cursing himself for missing his lessons — now he would have to work twice as hard to catch up — he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. It was a pointless endeavour but Hux knew that it would not be long before he would have to get up again for another round of combat and wanted to make the most of his recovery time, since it has been imposed upon him.

Hux lay impassive in his bed for a while, before giving into his boredom and inability to resume his slumber. Although he willed himself not to accept Brendol Hux’s act of kindness, he reached for the package on his bedside table and removed its lid.

Hux set the communicator back on the nightstand — like hell was he ever going to speak to his father anytime soon — ; set aside the datapad to explore later; even smiled at his father’s choice of holodramas: one was a documentary about the life of Grand Moff Tarkin and the other was a childhood favourite of his that followed the adventures of a young engineer who dedicated her life to building a starship so big and powerful and equipped with technology that didn’t even exist before she invented it. The other characters in the holodrama expected it to fail and it had caused quite the controversy when the producers released two alternate endings, one in which the engineer succeeded and one where she did not. Hux wondered which ending he would prefer now if he watched it again.

The chocolates, Hux took out and examined with great interest. He had never had chocolate before and had no idea what to expect. He was hungry; he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He popped one into his mouth and luxuriated in its rich, creamy flavour. _If only the Academy had these on the menu_ , Hux thought wishfully. The food at the Academy was decent quality; the cadets had to be well-nourished if they were to achieve their full potential, but it was rarely as strongly-flavoured or well-flavoured as the treat Hux had just eaten. And his father had given him an entire box.

Deciding to give the datapad a try, Hux unwrapped another chocolate as he waited for the device to load. This one was darker in colour and less sweet than the first one, with a strong, raw, flavour. He couldn’t tell which one he liked best.

The datapad blinked to life. There was only one file on the datapad. Hux opened it and found that it contained a number of sub-files that had names such as **Current Research** , **Differences by Planet** , **Explanatory Diagrams** , **General Information** , **History** , **HRT** , **Surgical Procedures (Optional)**. He recognised his father’s organisational style at once. _He must have compiled this himself_ , Hux realised.  
  
Nerio Vespasian Hux sat in bed, reading the datapad and eating chocolates until the Sun rose again. Once the day medbay staff arrived for their shifts, Hux was promptly discharged. He gathered his things, took them back to his quarters, grabbed his combat gear, and headed to the ’fresher. _It is not the apocalypse_ , Hux told himself while putting on his armour. _No, it is not the apocalypse, but another day._

 

* * *

 

Without waiting for Kylo Ren’s reaction, Hux moved to the next memory. _Snapshots_ , Kylo noted. He skimmed the surface of Hux’s mind. It always made him feel guilty when he read Hux’s mind; the man was entitled to privacy and it wasn’t as if Kylo wanted to extract information from him the same way he would with a Resistance hostage, but he sometimes touched the surface of Hux’s mind when he had trouble understanding what he was feeling or why exactly he chose to do the things he did.

Kylo saw that Hux was impatient, but he so desperately wanted to show Kylo what he could not articulate, for Kylo to understand his past and how it shaped him. Both men were naked down to their undergarments and were touching each other all over slowly. Hux moaned in pleasure as Kylo sucked bruises onto his delicate skin and yelped when Kylo bit him. Even when Kylo looked inside Hux’s head, he could not determine whether Hux had yelped in pleasure or in pain, or a mixture of the two.  
  
Kylo settled comfortably in Hux’s head while the other man kissed him and replayed memories for him at the same time.  
  
Hux in Leikmata’s department to ask her for his measurements, trying so hard not to blame her for simply following orders. He remembered embracing her when he left the room.  
  
Hux receiving a hormonal implant that would supply him with testosterone for the rest of his life. He had barely felt anything when the medic droid installed it into his left arm.  
  
Hux resting with bacta-soaked bandages around his chest. He was tender and sore for weeks afterwards, but he had never felt better. He returned to Leikmata for another uniform fitting as soon as he could take his bandages off. He spent at least an hour before bed looking at himself, in clothes and out. His scars were minimal thanks to the bacta and would fade over time.

Hux back in medbay for a checkup, noticing his combat instructor in the bay next to his. Hux knew it was impolite to look, but as he watched her having the oestrogen cartridge in her implant replaced, Hux couldn’t help but feel comforted.

Hux punching another cadet and throwing his plate at him during lunch, after he outed Hux to several of his fellow cadets and refused to use Hux’s pronouns. A senior officer had to physically separate the two boys, who were fully intent on beating the living hell out of each other. Hux used the comm that his father left him for the first time that day. Hux was spared punishment; nobody at the Academy misgendered him again.

Hux with his hand between his legs, rubbing in frantic concentric circles until that blissful release of tension, fighting back the urge to vocalise while his chambermates slept. Hux writhing under the covers while he thrust into his own touch.

Hux pinning another cadet against the wall of a ’fresher stall as they fucked one another senseless; Hux comforting them after they came prematurely.

Hux ejected Kylo from his head. Hux had pulled away to ask the question, his lips bruised and swollen. “Have you done this before, Kylo?” Hux asked without a hint of condescension.

It was Kylo’s turn to be embarrassed. “Well, not exactly… it’s not the Jedi way.”

“You’re not a Jedi, though.”  
  
“I was going to be, before… before…” _Before Snoke told me to kill the others. Before I knew what I had and what I had lost._ “Before I met the Supreme Leader and before I could finish my training,” Kylo said. 

“That’s all right. We can continue like this, exploring each other.” With that, Hux pecked Kylo on the lips and slid his underwear down. Kylo did the same.  
  
Hux lay back on the bed, propping himself up on the pillows. “Well?”

Kylo Ren’s eyes roamed hungrily over Hux’s body, drinking in his slender form, the curve of his hips, soft velvet skin. Hux took Kylo’s hand, placed it between his legs and inhaled sharply when Kylo inserted a finger into Hux’s warm, inviting folds.  
  
“Stars above, Hux. You’re beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Notes: 
> 
> \- I know nothing about astrophysics and so for aesthetic purposes, there are sunsets in space.  
> \- The holodrama with two endings is inspired by Pretty in Pink, one of my personal favourite films. At the time of its original release, the audience hated the ending and it was changed.  
> \- Dance was considered an officer’s skill at the Academy and was taught as such. I like to think that Hux is a wonderful formal dancer.  
> \- Hux’s combat instructor is a trans woman.  
> \- Hux eventually told some of his friends about his gender and to his surprise, some of them shared similar experiences.  
> \- The cadets come from a mixture of worlds. At the Academy and on the home planets of many of them, gender just isn’t a thing. However, not all the cadets have had access to that same understanding and worldview, and a few of them are actively opposed to it.  
> Personal Notes:
> 
> \- I didn’t think I’d end up writing physical intimacy into this fic but there you go! There’s a first time for everything.  
> \- One more chapter to go, everyone! Thank you, thank you all for coming on this journey with me. I will be sad to conclude my work on this fic, but I'm excited to complete it.


	7. General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux gets ready for a meeting with the Supreme Leader and contemplates the night before. Kylo has one last question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, everyone. I am so incredibly sorry for not finishing this fic when I said I would. I was completing my degree and I really wanted this last chapter to be something I was happy with and something that could do your loyalty justice. Thank you for reading and for being a part of this journey with me. Your comments and criticisms mean the world to me and I am so humbled that some of you liked this fic enough to give Kudos, to subscribe to it, and to bookmark it. Thank you to each and every one of you.

Hux awoke at his usual hour. The holopad on his bedside table blinked, signalling the arrival of his schedule for the day. Hux reached for it and scrolled through his agenda while lying on his stomach, propped on one elbow. His first task was a meeting with the Supreme Leader, to discuss how the construction of Starkiller Base was proceeding. 

Reluctantly, Hux threw back the bedsheets and got up, leaving Kylo sleeping soundly. Kylo had one hand under his cheek and Hux thought he would have looked serene, were it not for the way his jaw remained set and his squeezed shut as though Kylo could shut out the terror of his dreams by keeping his eyes closed.

The General permitted himself a backwards glance at the figure in his bed before heading to his ’fresher, choosing a water-based shower over a sonic. As the water ran over his body, Hux’s thoughts returned to the night before. It hadn’t taken long for Kylo’s initial display of boldness to crumble into nerves; it had been Hux’s first time with Kylo, and Kylo’s first time with anybody. Hux’s timidity and Kylo’s lack of experience resulted in some of the sloppiest sex Hux had ever had in his life and it had been unexpectedly comforting. 

 _Nobody else in the whole Galaxy will ever be with Kylo the way we were_ , Hux thought. _Just me and him, our togetherness._

  
Hux covered himself with soap — nothing fancy, some odourless, standard issue stuff — and scrubbed away the coat of sweat and stickiness that clung to his body. He and Kylo had collapsed in an exhausted heap when they were both spent, both too tired to move from the bed afterwards.

Massaging shampoo into his hair, Hux wondered if Kylo would be awake by the time he was finished his shower. _Likely not_ , he surmised; Kylo never got up until he had to be up. Kylo never followed the rules; being outside of the First Order’s chain of command meant that the rules followed him. With the exception of meetings with the Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren ran on his own schedule. His lack of respect for time management infuriated Hux; Ren missed meetings that had been on the calendar for months in advance and he’d demand consultations without any prior notice whatsoever.

Hux himself would gladly sleep until noon if the opportunity arose; however, his time at the Academy rendered him an early riser by habit and not by choice. Hux rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and set about styling his hair.

Hux faced the mirror, parting his hair and began working through it with a comb, when he heard a shuffling behind him. Kylo Ren appeared in the mirror, his dark hair mussed from his fitful sleep and his eyes half-shut from the light.

“Did I wake you?” Hux asked, without turning around. Kylo shook his head slowly and rested his chin on Hux’s shoulder. Hux nudged him off. “We have a meeting with the Supreme Leader today. I trust you remember?”

Kylo did not reply. He placed his hand atop Hux’s and carefully pried the comb from his fingers and took to Hux’s hair himself.

“Ren, please. You would do well to comb your own hair,” Hux said irritably. When Kylo continued without acknowledging Hux’s remark, Hux sighed and reached for his toothbrush. He brushed his teeth as Kylo continued to drag the comb absurdly through his hair, having already located Hux’s hair gel in the cabinet.

The General stared at them both in the reflection of the mirror. Kylo was still entirely naked. General Hux would have been lying if he denied feeling a twinge of envy at seeing Kylo’s body for the first time, a twinge of envy that hit him even now. He envied the man’s naturally thicker build and chiselled muscles, no matter that they would likely be an even match in combat. Hux looked down at his own pale, slender form and shrugged. He tilted his head, almost causing Kylo to poke him in the face with the comb, and pouted a little 

In the mirror, Kylo’s eyes flickered. Kylo ceased his ministrations to Hux’s hair and gently turned Hux to face him. Brown eyes melted into blue. Kylo moved forward and pressed his lips tenderly to Hux’s. Hux did not resist and kissed back, slipping his tongue into Kylo’s mouth, remembering how excited Kylo became when Hux did that the night before. He withdrew slightly and traced Kylo’s lips with his tongue. As Kylo leaned in for more, Hux backed away and leaned against the sink.

“Ren. We’re going to be late. I’m getting dressed,” Hux said. He pushed Kylo’s hands away and left the ’fresher. “You’re welcome to use it,” Hux said to Kylo, who was still standing opposite the sink. Kylo pulled the door shut, leaving Hux in his room.

Hux took out a small hand-mirror and examined Ren’s handiwork. _Not bad_ , Hux thought. If he _ever cared to keep his hair in regulation style, I know he could do it._ Hux dressed without much ado, putting on his breeches and pulling his tunic over his head, pushing aside the stray strands of hair that fell into his face as he did so. He knew it would be more practical to do his hair after he dressed, but he preferred to attend to it first so that he never saw himself disorderly while he was wearing his uniform. It was an odd concern, Hux knew, but that was how he preferred it.

Hux strode over to his table and tapped his datapad, placing an order for a cleaning droid to change his bedsheets while he and Ren met with Snoke. He also made a mental note to comm his father after the meeting and send him an update on the Starkiller project too. Brendol Hux occasionally asked after the General’s work and Hux replied as often as he could but it was something that was never particularly high on his priority list. It had been a while since he had corresponded with his father and discussing his past with Kylo reminded him that he was probably due for a transmission or two.

The door to the ’fresher hissed open and Kylo Ren exited, his hair as messy as before.

“That was quick. Did you clean yourself up at all?”

 “I used the sonic.” Kylo spoke, for the first time that morning. Kylo paused. “Hux?”

“Hm?”

“I have one last question.”

* * *

After young Hux had his implant inserted, he became comfortable enough to resume changing in the fresher with the rest of the cadets. The information on the datapad that his father had given him had been very clear in not correlating body parts and gender. Besides, he felt much more at ease after he learned there were other cadets and officers like him at the Academy.

He became more confident by the day, his academic and training progress skyrocketing. By his final year at the Academy, Hux was set to graduate at the top of his class. Academy graduation, as with everything else, was a formal ceremony. Hux never lost his fondness for elegant flair and he was delighted that his time at school would end with such a flourish.

As Hux walked to the deck, he felt someone following him. He turned around and started; he recognised the officer who had failed to give him the switch all those years ago. Hux curled his lip daringly.

“Hey. Hey, sir?”

The officer was taken aback to be addressed directly and so informally without invitation. “Hey! Do you remember me?” Hux enquired.

The officer was silent for a few seconds. Upon recognising Hux, his eyes widened in shock.

“HX-1138." 

“Yeah, that’s me,” said Hux, growing bolder by the second. The officer blushed furiously, thinking of their awkward encounter in the discipline chamber.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hux began. The officer was bright red in the face already and gaping, robbed of speech.  
  
“You confused me, you know,” Hux admitted. “When you didn’t hit me. I didn’t know why. Nobody had ever looked at me like that. In that moment, I felt so small. You made me feel small. I know what that’s like. I like making people feel small too sometimes. It means I’m in control. But I don’t know, sir, if you’ve ever felt self-conscious. But I think you should know that when you looked at me and didn’t hit me, that I registered feeling self-conscious for the first time that I can remember." 

The officer did not meet Hux’s eye. He was becoming increasingly visibly uncomfortable. But Hux did not stop.

“Nobody explained anything to me. I didn’t know that there was a way to articulate what my body was and what that meant to me or to anyone else. I didn’t know how to attach significance to why you did what you did,” Hux said.

“I don’t blame you. You were following orders because I didn’t follow orders that day,” Hux continued. “I don’t even blame my own father. Even he didn’t tell me.”

“HX-1138,” the officer said, having regained some measure of composure. “Cease this at once. This tirade is unwarranted and inappropriate and I do not appreciate your —”

“With all due respect sir, I’d like to finish. What I’m saying is that I’d like to thank you.”

The officer was stunned. _Thank him?_ “You see, that incident made me confront the fact that I was different. It marked the beginning of my admission of divergence and encouraged me to think a little more. So by the time my father was ready to have that conversation with me, I already knew what to say to him.”

“So, thank you sir.” Hux turned to go, but the officer spoke again, his voice rising. 

“HX-1138. You have just committed a severe act of insubordination and your lack of discipline is as bad as I remember. Now if you —”

“Thank you, sir, but I have a graduation ceremony to attend.” Hux headed off, but not before he heard the officer’s voice shouting after him.

“Thank me, eh? What are you anyway? Away with you, you kriffing —”

Hux didn’t stay long enough to hear the end of the officer’s insult. He kept walking until he reached the deck. Hux stood tall in his parade uniform, brushing his hand over the left breast of his jacket, where his graduating honours were to be pinned. He waved to SG-4931, standing a couple of lines away. He caught Leikmata’s eye and returned her warm smile.  
  
Hux scanned the crowd for his father and saw him, standing on top of the deck’s dias set up especially for the ceremony. Hux turned to face the front and swept a couple of strands of his hair from his eyes. He stepped forward in triumph. 

* * *

_That’s what happened between him and I_ , Hux thought so that Kylo could hear.

“How did you feel?”

_I didn’t mind. Male, female, none of it. None of it matters._

Hux took Kylo’s hand. They stepped out of the room together; ready to face the Supreme Leader. Kylo felt Hux swell with pride beside him, walking out with long strides, his posture perfect and his eyes glittering. The light of the early morning caught Hux’s hair, transforming his Kylo-coiffed locks into a fiery halo.

“Radiant,” Kylo whispered in awe, too quietly for Hux to hear him.

“None of it mattered at that point,” Hux said aloud, pulling Kylo from his musing. “And I don’t think it matters now.” Hux squeezed Kylo’s hand, before letting it go as they rounded the corner and into the corridor.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m a man or a woman or both or neither. It doesn’t matter for anyone, unless they want it to matter. What matters is that I’m your General.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a sap — I said it would be fluffy eventually! I hope you enjoyed this last chapter. It's been an incredible experience writing this fic (my first ever!) and I loved every second of it. Thank you again for your time. Please come and talk to me on [tumblr](thethirstorder.tumblr.com), I love chatting to people about Star Wars, Kylux, headcanons, everything. I'm also always accepting prompts.

**Author's Note:**

> The experiences here are drawn from my own, and from other sources.
> 
> This is the very first fanfiction I have ever written. I would appreciate any and all comments and criticism.
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](http://the-thirst-order.tumblr.com) :)


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